Simplicity is Summer Friendly
by Lord Mendasuit
Summary: Harry Potter's summers are not very enjoyable. Thus, Sirius decides that he'll make this one at least a little bit better. Ibiza's Veela enclave proves most cooperative in this endeavor. Summer in between year 3 and 4 in the Simplicity Series.


Sirius Black was many things, and serious was not often one of them, but, on this particular occassion, he happened to be very serious indeed. "So... I got it cleared with Dumbledore. We're going to Ibiza, pup," said the man, changed from the gaunt and haggard look he'd sported after escaping from Azkaban into the handsome lech that had charmed the panties off one hundred and thirteen different witches as well as sixty three squibs and forty nine muggles. Also three men, but in his defense, he'd been drunk at the time and someone had challenged him to do it.

"Ibiza? Isn't that in Spain? Sirius, I don't know about you, but I don't speak Spanish," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, you're stil a wanted man."

"Not in Spain. The Spanish equivalent for a minister of magic happens to be named Jeremias Black, and he's a third cousin twice removed or something like that. Since I'm still Lord Black, he still has to obey me, so he'll turn a blind eye to my presence in Spain," said Sirius, waving his hand in a gesture of carefree indulgence, "all I had to do was validate his marriage with the muggleborn witch in the eyes of the family and he practically begged me to visit."

"That's incredibly useful, but there's still the whole language barrier thing," Harry said, hoping that Sirius had a solution against that too.

"You know how my family has its slogan in French? For some reason most of my family was convinced that anything French is sexy, so they had me and Regulus learn French. I learned Spanish instead, just to spite my parents. Aunt Druella thought it was hilarious and Uncle Cygnus taught me just to spite my father. Point is, don't worry, I know Spanish," Sirius said, finishing his story in record time. Then he fished something out of his robes' pockets. It was a clearly freshly used pair of panties. "Grab hold of this," he commanded.

Harry did, with slight apprehension and great wonder. The fabric was smooth and silky, and he wondered about who had just worn them.

"This is a portkey, it will take us to my safehouse in Ibiza. It's a timed portkey, which means it should activate-"

And then suddenly, they were no longer in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, but instead in a rather nice looking cottage that was in truth the inside of a bathroom stall in a public bathroom of a random beach in Ibiza.

"-about five seconds ago," muttered Sirius with a grin, as he watched Harry fall down and attempt to clean his stomach of all it had through puking it out. Luckily, there was a toilet nearby.

"Magic travel and me do not mix," Harry said, wiping his chin of left over bile. "We're definitely taking a plane back to Britain..."

"That would be a problem. The Muggles are convinced I don't exist, after all," said Sirius.

"We'll get a forger," Harry said, looking pale and sickly.

"Forget about that!" Sirius commanded, his voice becoming much more imperious as he did. He grabbed his wand, which was a new one provided by Ollivander discreetly, as he did with important clients that he couldn't afford to piss off like Dumbledore, and muttered an unintelligible word, moving his wand in a strange pattern.

Suddenly, Harry's robes shrank and changed color, until they were a hawaiian-style, colourful pair of swimming trunks. Sirius did the same with himself, but his robes turned into a speedo that displayed the entirety of his body. Including the scars gained fighting Death Eaters. Despite Azkaban, he still had a physique many would die for.

"Lots of female prisoners at Azkaban. Lots of exercise. Very little supervision," said Sirius with a wink, as Harry broadcasted his wonder about how Sirius could remain fit after a decade of Azkaban. "Ignoring that, it's about time I introduced you to the female form. I know you're fourteen, but I lost my virginity when I was twelve and I've never regretted it. Personally, I say screw social norms and moral precepts."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Somehow, coming from you, that doesn't surprise me in the least."

Sirius rolled his eyes in return. "Just so you know, the Marauders had a competition over who would pop more cherries before the end of their tenure at Hogwarts. We started in fifth year, and I won by a landslide. Me and your father were neck to neck entering sixth year, but he dropped out when he became a lovesick puppy trailing after your mother. I think he broke like a dozen hearts when he did that."

"Moony and Wormtail were popular with girls too?" asked Harry, genuinelly surprised.

"You'd be surprised," Sirius said, smiling widely. "Moony had the whole broody-but-not-annoyingly-so thing. Back then, me 'n James used to force him to dress with a little class too, so he didn't look as shabby as he does these days. Wormtail got fat and ugly with the Weasleys. Point is, our group had been making panties moist since fourth year," Sirius admitted.

"Okay. Why are we dressed in muggle swimwear?" asked Harry.

"Because this is a beach Harry. A Black Property, in fact. So it's reserved only for Magicals' usage. It was pureblood-only, but when my parents died I opened it for anyone magical. This is actually one of many such properties the Black family had. Our wealth had to come from somewhere," Sirius said, sounding rather proud of himself for defying his parents in such a way. "Anyway, this beach in particular is the closest one to a Veela enclave. So they come here often."

"Question! What's a Veela?" asked Harry, tilting his head to the side.

Sirius grinned in an almost canine fashion. "You'll see," he said with the glee of the wolf that had been left alone in the sheep's corral.

It was not until minutes later that Harry was introduced to his first Veela. A woman with a flawless, bronzed complexion from clear sunbathing, perky and decently sized breasts, a bottom to die for and a smirk that would have men's knees buckling. Harry had also felt his first brush with the Veela allure...

… and the first time he'd felt incredibly embarrassed as, for a few instants, he'd been turned into a drooling moron.

A single slap from Padfoot had put a rest to such a thing, however, and when Harry's eyes focused once again, he still saw the ungodly gorgeous woman. Except the smirk she'd been wearing before was now both shocked and pleased.

"Ah... Señor Sirius. Ha sido mucho tiempo desde su ultima visita. Mi cama ha estado muy fria en su ausencia," the woman said, the words wholly unintelligible to Harry, but it was clear that Padfoot knew what was being said.

"La gente de mi nacion es fuerte y cree en la justicia. Por desgracia, no son muy inteligentes, y los inocentes sufrimos los errores de los idiotas," Sirius said with a pleasant smile on his face, which was rapidly turning into a predatory smirk. While clearly accented, Sirius' Spanish had to be impeccable if he could talk with such speed and fluidity, Harry mused. "Creo recordar que una de tus hermanas era una recien nacida la ultima vez que nos vimos. ¿Ya tiene un compañero que vea por sus necesidades?"

The woman looked scandalized for a moment. "¡Señor Black! ¡En mi vida hubiese creido que usted fuese de tal calaña! La niña apenas cumplio los catorce. La pobrecilla no merece que usted arruine a los hombres de por vida. Sus expectativas serian demasiado altas si usted fuese quien ella usa para comparar a sus compañeros," she said, seemingly regaining her good humor by the end.

Sirius laughed. "No, no, las niñas de esa edad no me provocan de esa forma," he said, shaking his head, before he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Sin embargo, tengo un ahijado con necesidades y sin experiencia."

The woman looked contemplative. "¿Que aprendan juntos?"

"No. Siendo honesto, solo quiero reirme de ellos. Esto promete ser divertido," Sirius said, with a strange air of finality.

"Tiene razon, Señor Black. Mi hermana mas joven, sin embargo, no es la unica de las jovencitas que aun no han encontrado alguien quien las ayude con sus... necesidades. Su ahijado solo sucumbio a mi encanto por unos segundos, y a juzgar por la manera en la que parece mas interesado en decifrar nuestra conversacion que en encontrar una forma de quitarme la bikini, creo que solo le tomara unos minutos inmunizarse a el Encanto. Señor Black, es un placer hacer negocios con usted, como siempre."

Sirius grinned, widely. "Well, Harry, how do you feel about spending your summer surrounded by Veela in a warm beach? And yes, Harry, they're ALL this hot," Sirius said. "Also, trust me, nothing you do here is illegal. Very few acts with a Veela are. Nobody's gonna judge you, least of all me. And anything you do here will be kept secret. So... you like?"

"Padfoot I... I... I love you," Harry said, tears brimming in his eyes.

"I know pup, I know. I love myself too," Sirius said, placing a fond hand on Harry's shoulder. "Also, the translator enchantment I've had Moony working on should be ready by tomorrow. For now, you probably won't need to talk. Do you know how to play Volleyball?" asked Sirius.

"Not in the slightest," Harry admitted.

"You're in luck. It's most likely they don't know how to play either," Sirius said, gesturing to where a bunch of women whose only common trait was silvery hair, and whose bodies ran the entire gamut from the lithe to the voluptuous, short and tall. Veela, all of them, of all ages and sizes, and all wearing skimpy little pieces of fabric that only barely resembled tiny bikinis.

"¡Señor Black! ¡Señor Black! ¡Venga a jugar con nosotras!" one of them called, and even though Harry couldn't, for the life of him, decipher the words, the voice that had spoken it had been melodious and it had caused his loins to stir nevertheless. The fact that he understood the sentiment and innuendo behind them meant that these women were so charged with raw sexuality they shattered the language barrier.

"Ron's gonna be so jealous when I get back!" Harry said, to himself. He resolved to take lots of pictures; at least he'd get Ron enough wank material to warrant forgiveness.

_A week later..._

"Wish you were here," Ron muttered, darkly. "Why, Harry, WHY!? Why could you not take me, too, to paradise with you?" he roared at the sky, daring the mighty smiter to smite him.

George and Fred were weeping. "This boy... no, Harry is a man amongst men," both said in unison.

Somewhere else, Albus Dumbledore wiped a tear from his cheek. "I wish you good luck on all your endeavors, Harry, if only so that life might make up for a bit of the suffering I've caused you..." he muttered, before smiling widely. "Now, I'm gonna take a lemon drop, AND EAT IT... while reading Tolkien. This Gandalf fellow is just fascinating," he said to himself, and he did as he said.

"So... I've been getting ideas for the song this year," the Sorting Hat began, "I thought I might place some emphasis on the upcoming tournament and all," it said.

"Maybe we can dedicate a small part of it as obscure hints? I'm always amazed at what the students think you mean," Dumbledore commented, absent mindedly.

Fawkes chirped.

"I've told you once and I've told you a thousand times, Fawkes, we'd get sued faster than you can chirp if I told the students what I really think of them," the hat countered. "Besides, just because half of them are hopeless dunderheads doesn't mean we've got to insult all of them."

Fawkes chirped again.

"You know, he's got a point with that one," Dumbledore said. "I've also been thinking about the possibilities for my speech this year, and I've gotten a few ideas I want to run through you two..."

The discussion degenerated into whether or not the hat would make an allusion to the fact that Beauxbatons allowed Veela to enroll in their school and thus most, if not all, the boys would be turned into drooling twits...

They ended up deciding not to. It would be funnier that way.


End file.
